


A New Start

by casey270



Series: A New Start [1]
Category: Isaac Carpenter (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy leaves California looking for a new start. He ends up in Washington and meets Isaac where he finds the new start he is looking for in life and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Start

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Glam Reverse Big Bang](http://glam-reverse-bb.livejournal.com/)
> 
>   
> ”>
> 
> Artwork by [Kittys_devil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittys_devil/pseuds/kittys_devil) can be found here[LJ](http://kittys-devil.livejournal.com/98684.html), [DW](http://kittys-devil.dreamwidth.org/17263.html) & [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/709375). The art she made really told the whole story. I just typed the words that went with it.
> 
> And thank you, [beniblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beniblue/pseuds/beniblue) for betaing this. any remaining mistakes are mine.

  


He’s screwed...again. Nothing new, except that this time he’s managed to destroy his relationship, lose his job, and end up homeless - all in one night. Shit, he’s lucky Claire hadn’t killed him. He knows fucking around with someone in his own band is never a good idea, especially when it’s Claire’s band and not his.

Besides, he really doesn’t mean to cheat. 

He never means to cheat. 

It just happens.

Every single fucking time.

And the little groupie is cute, okay? And she’s completely legal. Tommy makes sure of that - this time, anyway. But he really should’ve listened to Claire when she told him about having people at the show to see them play. He might have figured out that the cute little groupie was someone Claire knew. He doesn’t think anyone could have expected him to know that it was Claire’s cousin, though. Especially not a cousin that Claire used to babysit for. Maybe if people told him shit sometimes, he wouldn’t fuck up so bad.

But he’s been drinking through the whole show, and everyone knows he can’t be held responsible for what he does when he drinks...or is stoned...or just fucking horny. Shit, he doesn’t think it’s fair to hold him responsible for what his dick does anytime. It’s like it’s got a mind of its own. He just follows it right into the cute little groupie, and, well, Claire finds out. And she isn’t about to give up this time with a little punishment like she always has before. 

Nope, this time locking him out of the apartment while he’s totally naked isn’t gonna satisfy her. Apparently neither is tying him up and making him beg and promise to be good from now on. Of course, those things hadn’t worked the last time. Or the time before that.

This time she follows him like she thinks she’s a private fucking investigator or some shit, and waits and likely watches while Tommy gets blown in the girl’s own driveway. It’s probably her parent’s driveway, but Tommy’s not about to argue about subtle distinctions or fine details even with himself, because, that little girl? Yeah, she’s no beginner when it comes to giving blowjobs. She’s got this little trick she does with her tongue that must have taken lots of practice to perfect, and Tommy’s really fucking glad it’s perfect. 

It’s a good thing he enjoys it while he can, because as soon as he’s done and put away - and the little groupie is safely back in mommy and daddy’s house - he puts the car in reverse, glad he can make a break for it before things get complicated, because he’s not as dumb as people think he is, and he knows the little groupie probably isn’t as old as her fake ID says she is. Except there’s a car blocking the end of the driveway, and there’s no fucking way he’s gonna blow the horn and wake sleeping parents up. 

So he sits there for a minute, or maybe it’s closer to five - he’s still feeling good from getting blown, and he doesn’t really mind the break. Just when his brain kicks in, and he thinks that this might be something he should be concerned about, the headlights swing back, and he breathes a sigh of relief. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _tonight’s been a good night all around._

He’s still in a dreamy, postorgasmic state of mind as he backs out onto the street, but it’s interrupted in the worst way when the rearview mirror catches the flash of lights coming back around, and he feels the jolt of over two tons of SUV running right into the back of his Jetta.

Except this isn’t really his car, is it? No, it’s Claire’s, and she’s gonna be mad as all fuck at him for getting into an accident in it. Even if it isn’t his fault. He goes through his own little checklist. No bumps on his head, which is a good thing - he would rather contribute his brain cells to drinking than to a concussion, thank you very much. A little bit of stiff feeling in his right shoulder, but he’d been holding the steering wheel with that hand, and he thinks he might have jammed it. His left knee is sore as all hell, though. He swears he can already feel it swelling, but it’s always been a problem for him. Ever since that time when he was fifteen and had to jump out of his girlfriend’s second story bedroom window because her parents came home before they were supposed to.

He feels his anger swelling right along with his knee, but it’s righteous indignation, and that thought makes him laugh because righteousness has never been his thing, except when he uses it as a diversionary tactic. He’s trying to figure out a way to make the driver of the other car responsible for telling Claire her car’s probably totaled, along with making up a believable lie to tell the little groupie’s dad who’s now standing on his front porch, no doubt awakened by the sound of grinding metal at 4 AM. 

But when he notices the driver of the SUV getting out, he thinks he might not be the only one who’s feeling righteous and indignant. He thinks he recognizes the hair and the height and the set of the shoulders, and the dim light coming from the car’s dome only strengthens his fears. It’s Claire. She must have seen him leaving with the girl and followed him. And that would mean she’d seen the girl’s head bobbing up and down on his dick while they were parked in the driveway.

Claire’s smart, but even if she wasn’t, he knows there’s not much of a question about what they’d been doing. There’s no excuse, no lie that can cover this up, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. “Claire, baby, it’s not what it looks like,” he says, opening the car door and wincing as it screams on hinges that aren’t quite straight anymore. “Give me a chance to explain.”

But of course that isn’t going to happen. Instead, the groupie girl’s dad and Claire gang up on him, because it seems like she’s not legal after all. She’s more like a pretty baby, not quite seventeen and enjoying a night out with a fake ID provided by none other than cousin Claire, who promised her daddy that she would watch his precious little daughter and personally guarantee her virtue for the night.

Tommy feels like he’s somehow managed to end up in a soap opera on acid - or maybe the worst reality show ever - but he thinks he’s lucky when they let him limp away with nothing but threats following him. Of course he has no idea where he’s going, but that doesn’t even cross his mind until he’s at least half a mile away. 

When he does stop to rest his knee, he realizes he’s got nothing - no money because he’d used whatever he’d made tonight to keep himself sufficiently inebriated, no place to stay or transportation because those are Claire’s. Fuck, everything is Claire’s. She’s the one who paid for all his shit, even his guitar that was still back at the venue - he’d figured someone else would pack up his equipment while he made friendly with the cutie. He has nothing except the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet, which are his fucking stage creepers, and not made to wear for walking, especially with his knee going all to shit.

He’s still got his phone though. He figures he’s got a day or two left with it before Claire cuts off the service, because, yeah, she pays for that too. He starts calling people, looking for a lift and a place to flop for a day or two, just long enough to make things all nice with Claire again. 

But Claire’s already put the word out to their friends. Seems like she owns all of them, too. More than half of them only answer in order to be able to tell him what a shit he is before they hang up on him. A couple manage a few words of sympathy, but he still gets the message that he’s pretty much dead to them. 

As a last resort he calls his sister. He knows that there’s no room for him in her tiny apartment, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to let his sweet little niece see him like this anyway, but maybe she knows someone. 

It turns out that Lisa thinks she might know someone, but she can’t be sure if they’re okay with Tommy just showing up without warning. She tells him she’ll let him know in the morning, but she also tells him that this friend’s cousin, or whoever the fuck it is, lives way up in Washington state. Up in the mountains, no less. He’s some kind of communing with nature freak who apparently believes that everyone can find themselves in the mountains. She tells him to think about it overnight, to sleep on it - like he’s really gonna be doing any sleeping with no place to stay - and she’ll call him when the baby wakes up tomorrow morning.

He’s not sure he’s up to a Dr. Phil in the wilderness type experience, but the longer the night goes on, the more he thinks he could do it on a temporary basis, at least long enough to sweet-talk Claire into letting him move back in.

He finally gives in and finds a quiet bench in the park to sleep on. He thinks he’s probably lucky because he doesn’t get rousted or rolled, but there is one pesky little squirrel that keeps dropping things on him all night. He’s never trusted those flea ridden little fuckers.

When the sun comes up he feels like he’s about a hundred and fifty years old. He’s freezing and sore and tired as all fuck, and there’s still nowhere for him to go. He doesn’t even have a dollar for a cup of coffee at McDonalds, so he pulls his jacket tighter around himself and hunches his shoulders against the early morning chill. He hasn’t shaved or washed since before the show, and he can taste the stale film of last night’s drinking coating his mouth. He thinks he’s hit an all-time low when a passerby hands him a half finished cup of still hot coffee and tells him to sober up and go find a job - and he drinks it.

It seems like forever before Lisa calls him back, but when she does, he’s so happy to hear her voice that he swears he can feel tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s about time somebody helps him out of this, he thinks. He really can’t believe she just left him to sleep in the fucking park all night.

She tells him that she talked to her friend, who talked to her cousin, Isaac, and Tommy listens to all the recounting of he said, she said before Lisa finally gets to the point. The short version is that Isaac’s willing to take him on as a hired hand at some fucking retreat he runs up in the mountains. 

When Tommy hears the word retreat, he almost shuts the whole thing down. There’s no way in hell he wants to be mixed up with some fundamentalist retreat, or worse yet, a survivalist group that’s based in the hills. But Lisa explains that it’s not like that. Isaac has a place where people go when the pressure of life in the city gets to be too much, where they can relax and enjoy life at a slower pace. She tells him that there are cabins scattered over a fifty acre site, and Isaac needs someone to help him take care of them. Since it’s late fall, and most people avoid the mountain experience in the winter, there shouldn’t be too much to do except routine maintenance. 

And this Isaac is even willing to pay him as well as put him up. Lisa tells him that she’ll pay for his train ticket up there, and he can pay her back with his first check. He thinks it might take a little longer than that, because the second he hears that he’ll have some money coming in, he starts making plans for it, but he doesn’t tell her that. He just agrees to meet her at the station at nine.

Tommy decides that thirty-six hour train ride isn’t a pleasant thing, unless you have a private room with a bath and a shower and a regular bed and shit. He has none of those. He has a seat; a seat that’s not big enough or comfortable enough to sleep in even if there weren’t strange noises and even stranger people all around him. Besides, he’s never been on very friendly terms with sleep - he catches it when he can, but it’s never on the same schedule as the rest of the world.

When he gets off the train, he’s sure he deserves some of the looks he’s getting from the people around him. He figures he’s looking pretty fucking rough by this time, and he’s never seen so many _clean_ looking people in one place before; they’re almost Pollyannaish, and that’s sure as shit not his thing. He thinks he probably sticks out even more than usual but there’s nothing he can - or more to the point, _wants_ \- to do about it now. He finds a quiet corner and calls the number Lisa had given him. He has absolutely no idea how far away this Isaac dude lives from Seattle and not one clue what he looks like. It might have been good to ask Lisa a little more about what he’s getting himself into, but he’s not planning on being here long enough for it to make much of an impact on his life. As soon as he can sweet talk Claire into taking him back and sending him some money, he’s gonna be on the next plane, train or bus right back to LA, because the more he sees of the great northwest, the more he knows this isn’t his place and these aren’t his people. 

When Isaac answers, Tommy isn’t surprised by the sound of his voice. It’s happy and smiley and cheerful, just like the faces of the people he sees all over the terminal. He already feels like he’s drowning in their buoyancy, and he can’t wait to get back to the harsh light and dark corners of home.

The conversation doesn’t last long - just long enough for Isaac to find out where he is. Isaac doesn’t even bother asking what he looks like, but when Tommy looks around again he knows it’s not necessary. He _really_ doesn’t fucking fit in here. He can see it in the way people look at him; he can feel it in the way they go out of their way to keep as much distance between themselves and him as possible. It’s like they can feel his LA vibe and they’re afraid of being contaminated by it or some shit. 

He hears his text alert go off before he puts his phone away and checks his messages. He sees Claire’s name and number and breathes a sigh of relief. It didn’t take her as long to come to her senses as he’d thought it would, and if she’s willing to send the money for him to fly home, he’ll be on the next plane south. He won’t even make her beg. As long as she apologizes, he’ll forgive her.

Except when he opens the text the first thing he sees is a picture, and it sure as hell doesn’t look like an apology. It’s hard to tell, but he can swear it looks like the dumpster behind Claire’s apartment building. And he knows he recognizes the end of the poster hanging out of it. It’s his original Nightmare On Elm Street poster, personally autographed by Robert Englund. He thinks he can make out some of his clothes, too. 

The text says _Getting rid of unwanted baggage. Dumpster caught on fire right after I took this. Strange, isn’t it?_ He gets another text right away that says _Don’t worry. I didn’t burn the guitars_ , and he breathes a little easier, because, shit, he loves those guitars more than anything. But the third message almost makes him cry when he reads _I sold them instead_.

Needless to say, he’s not feeling the warm glow of appreciation flowing through his veins when somebody taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, ready to fucking deck someone if they offer him a religious tract or directions to the nearest mission where he can flop for the night.

Instead, there’s some little dude, and he’s holding out his hand like he’s expecting Tommy to do the same. He’s never been one to offer his hand or his friendship lightly, but when he really looks at this guy, there’s no way he can leave him hanging. Dude’s got one of the most open and genuine smiles he’s ever seen. “Tommy, right? ‘m Isaac.”

“You’re not exactly what I was expecting,” he says, looking Isaac up and down and getting lost for a second in the twinkle he sees in his eyes; it kinda matches the laugh he hears hiding in Isaac’s voice. “Thought you’d be more of the rugged mountain man type.”

“Looks can be deceiving, man,” Isaac answers. “Besides, I can totally be rugged. Just wait until winter sets in. You get snowed in for weeks at a time. Everybody’s a little rugged looking then.”

He doesn’t bother explaining to Isaac that there’s no fucking way he’s planning on sticking around long enough to find that out for himself. He’s gonna be here maybe a week, two at the most - just long enough for things to cool off back home. By that time, he might even have enough money to buy a decent second hand guitar and pay Lisa back a little of what he owes her, if there’s any left.

He also doesn’t offer any explanations when Isaac asks where his luggage is. He just tells him that what he sees is all there is. This gets a strange, sympathetic look from Isaac, but he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks. He’s not looking for pity - not unless he can see a way to use it to his advantage, anyway.

Isaac keeps up a running commentary about the city of Seattle, the mountains around it, and life in general. Tommy tunes most of it out, but when he hears Isaac start talking about music, it registers in a big way. 

Turns out that Isaac’s a drummer, and a pretty damn good one judging by some of the bands he’s played with. He tells Tommy that sometimes he sets his kit up outside and plays for hours with nothing but nature and the local wildlife for an audience. Tommy thinks that’s probably the biggest fucking waste of music he’s ever heard, but he keeps that to himself. There’s no use antagonizing his meal ticket before they even get to wherever home is gonna be for the next few days.

By the time they get to the car, Tommy’s shivering. He can’t help it. He’s not made for facing the elements. It’s after nine o’clock and full on dark, and there’s a breeze coming in off the water. It’s not the warm ocean breeze he’s used to, either. This one has a bite and a promise of harsher things to come. He hunches his shoulders and bounces from foot to foot, trying to keep warm as Isaac digs his keys out of his pocket.

When he’s safely in the car, he tries to stop the tremors that are still running through his body, but he’s not being particularly successful. He can feel the cold still hiding in his bones, and it’s trying to break out. He notices Isaac glance his way as he starts the car, and what he sees on Isaac’s face isn’t pity. It’s more knowing, more sympathizing, more understanding than that.

Before the car starts moving, Isaac turns knobs and slides levers, and the car is filled with instant warmth. Even the seat starts warming up, making his ass very fucking happy. Isaac reaches into the back, pulling out two small blankets. Tommy bunches one up to use for a pillow and covers himself up with the other. The chills are finally going the fuck away, and between the warmth, the movement of the car and Isaac’s voice chattering on and on in the background, he dozes. There’s something so comforting, so _right_ about it, and he feels safe and at home.

He misses most of the ride, but after two nights in a row of not sleeping, he appreciates the rest. He surfaces enough a couple of times to realize that Isaac’s quit talking and makes some unintelligible sounds that are supposed to represent words. As soon as Isaac answers him and starts talking again, he goes right back under. It feels like the best sleep he’s had since he was a kid, and he tries to credit it to the way the heated seats feel, but some part of him knows that isn’t why he can finally relax. It all feels too deep to try and sort out though, so he just lets the waves of sleep wash over him.

When they get to the place that Isaac calls home, Tommy’s so groggy and out of it that he really doesn’t see much. He stumbles inside, and somehow ends up in a bed, dressed in only his boxers. It really doesn’t matter because there’s a fireplace that’s making everything warm and glowing and enough blankets to hide under. For the first time in what seems like forever, sleep embraces him tightly for the night.

He’s not sure what wakes him up, but he thinks the smell of coffee and bacon have something to do with it. And the sound of Isaac banging around in the kitchen is hard to ignore. He pulls the covers down enough to look at the clock beside his bed, and he knows he hasn’t seen this side of seven am in more years than he can remember. This is the time a good night ends. Days should never start this early.

Before he can pull the blankets back over his head, there’s a quick knock on his partially open door, and Isaac walks in like he owns the place. And even if he does own it, Tommy thinks he should respect personal boundaries enough to wait to be invited in. 

“Thought I heard you rustling around in here.” Tommy sees the same toothy smile he remembered from last night. He remembers other things, too - shadowy things, like Isaac helping him into the house from the car, Isaac taking off his pants and shirt and even his freaking shoes. And Isaac tucking him in, all nice and snug, like no one’s done for him since he was a kid. “I let you sleep in today since you looked so worn out when we got home, but the bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the left. Get a quick shower, then follow your nose to the kitchen before breakfast gets cold, okay?”

And just like that, Isaac’s gone. Tommy does hear him yelling back that there’s toiletries in the cabinet on the side of sink, and that he should help himself to a razor and a toothbrush. He doesn’t know that he’d be so generous if they were his things to loan out, but when he brushes away almost three days of bad taste on his teeth, he’s glad Isaac’s the type who likes to share.

When he’s done washing, he stands under the shower spray, eyes closed and enjoying feeling clean again until the water starts to lose its warm edge. It doesn’t seem like he’s been in there long enough to use up all the hot water, but whatever. Not his place, not his responsibility. He shaves with lukewarm water and brushes his teeth again just because he can.

He has no idea where his clothes ended up last night, but he sees some sweats that Isaac’s apparently laid out for him. They’re not his style, but the fit’s not bad, so he thinks he’ll be able to manage for a day or two. There are even socks for him, and a pair of slippers. He hasn’t worn slippers since he lived at home with his mom, but the wooden floors are cold on his feet, so he slides them on.

He gets to the kitchen just as Isaac’s putting eggs onto a plate for him. He’s never been a big morning eater, mostly because he’s usually too busy sleeping, but as soon as he sees the bacon, eggs and pancakes that Isaac’s fixed, his stomach lets out a rumble loud enough for any animals out in the woods to hear. 

“Hungry?” Isaac asks while taking a good look at him. “You look better this morning than you did last night.” He sniffs the air around Tommy before he continues. “Smell better, too.”

Ordinarily, Tommy might be a little defensive about someone making remarks like that to him, but there’s something about Isaac’s smile that takes any hurt out of the words and makes Tommy only hear the truth and concern in them.

“I feel better than I did last night, that’s for damn sure,” he answers before he takes the first bite of his food. He doesn’t thinks he’s ever tasted crispier bacon or fluffier pancakes in his life. And the eggs are enough to make him moan right out loud.

“That’s the most unique reaction my cooking’s ever gotten. Do you always have this relationship with your food, or should I feel special?”

“Sorry, man, but it’s been a rough couple of days,” Tommy tells him around another mouthful of food. He knows he shouldn’t talk with a mouth full of food, but damn it, he’s not about to take a break just to continue the conversation. He thinks back to his last real meal and realizes it was lunch on Friday. He hadn’t taken the time to eat before the show that night, and he’d spent most of Saturday and Sunday on the train. Lisa had given him a little extra money, but she hadn’t had much to spare after paying for his ticket. A stale sandwich and a couple of bags of chips’d had to make do. When he’d gotten here last night, he’d been too tired to even get himself ready for bed, much less ask about dinner. No wonder he feels like he’s starving.

Just to make sure he’s got the last few days sorted out in his head, he asks, “This is Monday, right?” and Isaac laughs right out loud.

He manages to put away enough food to make a good start on the meals he’s missed, and when he’s done, Isaac outlines the plan for the day. There’s a tree that went down in the woods. It’s blocking a trail and needs to be cut up for firewood. Then the firewood needs to be delivered and stacked at each of the cabins. It seems like there’re ten other cabins in the compound, and Isaac’s responsible for taking care of them. When they deliver the firewood, they have to check the cabins over - make sure they’re locked and secured. Except for cabins five and eight. They still have guests. Those two are on opposite sides of the property, and they have to contact the tenants to see if they need anything.

It all sounds pretty exhausting to Tommy, but if Isaac likes doing that sort of manual labor, more power to him. He almost chokes on his coffee when Isaac tells him to grab a coat and a pair of boots from one of the lockers on the side porch so they can get started. Somehow, the idea that he’d actually have to work for his keep seems to have escaped him. Isaac just looks at him and smiles when he says, “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

After three hours of working with a chainsaw, he has to admit that Isaac was right. This isn’t as bad as it sounds. It’s at least ten times worse. His fingers are numb from the vibrations of the saw and the chilly air, he’s got blisters on both feet from boots that don’t quite fit right, and his back feels like someone’s been using it as a brazier for hot coals. And on top of everything else, they’ve still got almost half the tree to take care of.

He thinks he’s on the verge of collapsing when he sees Isaac walking back to the truck. He’s sure as shit gonna take a break right along with the boss man, if that’s what’s going down. But he sees Isaac reaching into the back and pulling out a small cooler and a big thermos. He realizes right then that he’s hungry again, even after the huge ass breakfast this morning. He just hopes that he wasn’t supposed to pack his own lunch. If he’s gotta be responsible for himself, this isn’t going to end pretty.

But Isaac calls him over and hands him the biggest fucking sandwich he’s ever seen. He takes one bite, and the flavors explode in his mouth. There’s tomato and onion, provolone and peppers, artichokes and oil, and so many other things he can’t name. He’s not sure if it tastes so good because he’s really hungry, or if he’s even hungrier because it tastes so good. Either way, he’s halfway done before he takes a break long enough to see Isaac looking at him, smiling that smile again.

He does tell Isaac how good it is though. Compliments usually insure repeat performances, or at least that’s what he’s always found to be true. He’ll get right down and kiss Isaac’s boots if it means he gets more catered lunches like this.

And while he’s taking a break from stuffing food into his mouth, Isaac takes the opportunity to uncap the thermos and pour him a steaming mug of whatever’s inside it. He’s hoping it’s coffee, but when he gets it close, the smell of creamy, rich chocolate hits his nose, and it’s like he’s teleported back to being five years old again. He takes a small, hesitant sip, and before he can stop the words, he says, “Thanks, mom.” 

He can’t help laughing when he sees how indignant Isaac looks, standing there with his hands on his hips. “The desire to provide and nurture isn’t an exclusively feminine characteristic, you know. Some things in life don’t recognize gender lines. You might want to remember that.”

He’s not quite sure why, but it rings true to him, and he’s positive he _will_ remember it.

It doesn’t take them as long to finish the tree as he thought it would, and Isaac’s been tidying up the branches while he’s been cutting, so it’s only another couple of hours before they have everything loaded in the back of the truck and ready to be delivered to the cabins. Isaac tells him that they don’t get many visitors in the winter months, but they have to make sure the cabins are ready if they do. And there’s always the possibility of someone needing a place to shelter. Isaac explains that while he hopes anyone who needs a place to stay will come to the main house, he’s not about to turn someone away who stops at one of the cabins.

While they go about their deliveries and make sure each of the cabins is shut and locked, Isaac tells him his life story. Tommy finds out that Isaac grew up in Washington, but not this part of the state. The mountains and pine forests were as foreign to him when he first got here as they are to Tommy. And it turns out that Isaac hasn’t been up here all that long. He tells Tommy that he spent part of last winter here, helping out and came back in the summer to take over running the place.

Tommy gets the idea that this is more than just a place to stay or a job for Isaac, and he’s happy for him, he really is. But if Isaac thinks Tommy’s ever gonna get to the point where he’s willing to give up everything in his life to spend a few months up here, he’s dead wrong. Tommy likes the pressure and the pace of life in LA, and he thinks too much fresh air can’t be good for anyone. He can’t wait to get home again, and home sure as shit isn’t here.

It’s starting to get dark by the time they get back to the main house. Tommy feels muscles he didn’t even know he had screaming at him for abusing them today. There’s a dull, undefined ache in his back that he knows is going to make sleep elusive as hell tonight. The thought of a nice hot bath makes him moan right out loud, and the sound of laughter surprises him. He’d forgotten he’s not quite alone in the truck.

“That’s your food noise, isn’t it?” Isaac asks.

“That’s my all purpose pleased noise,” he answers. “Just thinking about soaking in a hot bath when we get back.”

“Try lukewarm. Fixing the thermocouple on the hot water tank is on tomorrow’s work list. But if you help me with dinner, I’ll give you a backrub that’ll help with stiff muscles. You actually did better than I expected today, beb.”

He’s really fucking pleased at the praise for his work. It’s something he’s not used to hearing. His friends, his crowd, aren’t big on compliments, so he really doesn’t know how to respond to it. He hides his pleasure under a series of complaints about the water situation and threats that Isaac better have magic fingers or something to make up for it.

Dinner turns out surprisingly well, considering he knows shit about cooking. Isaac puts him in charge of making a sauce for the pasta, and it’s not exactly a red sauce, but it’s not exactly a cream sauce either. He just starts throwing stuff in the pan and adding more shit until it tastes sorta like what he wants it to. He even uses things like garlic and basil and who knows what the hell else. He feels like maybe he could get to like this cooking thing if he didn’t have other things to do in his life that are actually more fun.

After dinner is done and cleaned up, Isaac makes good on his promise. He tells Tommy to lie face down on the bed, cause he’s not gonna want to get up afterward, and he’s right, but maybe not for the reason he thought he would be. He thinks Isaac must have taken classes in this shit, because he’s fucking good. He works Tommy over like he’s never been worked before, and Tommy’s paid for professional massages. There’s something more with what Isaac does, though. It’s more personal, and when Isaac climbs right up on the bed and straddles him to get to just the right spot, it’s really fucking personal.

He can’t help one of those moans, and he can tell without even seeing it that Isaac’s smiling that smile of his again - the one that makes that little dimple come out. Between feeling Isaac’s hands on his naked skin, and thinking of his smile and dimples, his dick doesn’t stand a chance. It perks right up, but since he’s lying on it, it doesn’t have enough room for full perking.

He squirms a little, and not only does it make Isaac falter, it makes things worse. Now his ass is rubbing right into Isaac’s dick, and he has no idea if Isaac is gay, straight, bi or whatever. He could be completely celibate for all Tommy knows. He supposes that if he were going to stick around for long, he should probably find out, but since he’s only planning on being here for a few days, he’ll just have to control his dick. He’ll start right in on that as soon as he’s alone and can turn over without putting someone’s eye out with his boner.

He thinks Isaac must have noticed his predicament though, because the massage ends with a quick, “Sorry, dude,” and Isaac climbing off him and off the bed in one graceful movement. 

“No need to apologize, man,” Tommy assures him. “You have the best hands I’ve ever felt. Ended quick, though.”

“Nothing like a premature conclusion to confuse things even more, right?” Isaac asks without expecting an answer. Tommy really doesn’t know what to think anymore, because he can swear that he felt Isaac getting hard for a minute there, but he’s not sure, and he’s sure as hell not gonna ask. He just wants to get back home in one piece and with maybe a little money in his pocket. He tells himself to think with the right head this time before he fucks this up too.

Sleep isn’t as elusive as he’d feared, thanks to Isaac’s magic hands, but when he sleeps he dreams. He dreams of strong hands touching him. He dreams of rhythms and beats and finding them in his life. Mostly, though, he dreams of dimples and smiles that know all his secrets.

He’s up by six the next morning, and he thinks his body is turning traitor on him. When he gets home, he’s gonna have to work at staying up late enough to play the good shows and being able to sleep through the daylight hours. He’s still feeling the sore muscles, maybe even more than he was last night. His shower doesn’t help much, since hot water’s still in short supply. He could really go for another massage before the day’s work begins, but he’s not gonna ask for it. He’s sure he can find a way to make Isaac feel sorry enough for him to offer it before the day’s done.

They spend the morning doing maintenance around the main house. The thing with the hot water tank isn’t hard to take care of, just unpleasant. His mind keeps going back to last night’s massage and his dreams, and distractions aren’t good when he’s supposed to be watching what he’s doing. His hand slips when he’s not paying attention, and he bangs into the drain valve. Before they can get things under control, both he and Isaac are soaked. He expects Isaac to be mad and yell, or at the very least, lecture him about being more careful. People have been giving him the _slow-down-and-think-about-what-you’re-doing-before-you-do-it_ lecture for as long as he can remember. 

Instead, Isaac just smiles at him and tells him that draining and flushing the tank _is_ the next step, but they need to get a hose on the drain valve first. Once the mess is taken care of, and the tank is full and heating, Isaac suggests they go find dry clothes. Tommy’s been wondering where the things he’s been wearing came from. 

Isaac tries to explain that just about everyone who comes up here leaves something behind. Sometimes people leave pictures, sometimes they leave a favorite book or movie, but more often than not, it’s clothes. And they’re almost always working clothes - the kind of clothes that are strong enough to face what the mountain throws at them, just like the people who left them. Isaac tells him that he thinks they do it so they still have a link to the mountain, something that still connects them and something to come back to if they ever need to come back.

Tommy thinks it makes for a cool story and all, but it sounds like the biggest load of romantic bullshit he’s ever heard. If someone spends their own money on shit, they keep it, unless it’s not worth keeping anymore. At least that’s what he’d do. He’s not planning on leaving anything behind when he leaves. He doesn’t want there to be any evidence he was ever here.

While he’s in his room, he decides to check his phone. He thinks it might be a little early for Claire to come to her senses, but it’s worth a shot. Except when he turns it on, he finds he has no service. Claire hadn’t wasted any time in having it turned off, and he can’t really blame her. Except he kinda does. She knew what he was like. She knew he wasn’t gonna change. People don’t ever really change. They are who they are, and that’s it. Besides, all his friends and contacts have this number for him. Even if he could afford his own phone, no one would know how to reach him on it if a job or something came up.

And while he’s thinking about jobs, he remembers why he can’t wait until he gets paid. He needs to get back and reestablish his place. He needs to find a new band and a new gig. He needs to be where Claire can see him so she knows what she’s missing.

But first of all, he needs to find out how much he’s getting paid for his stint in the mountains. He was too exhausted when he got here to think about talking pay scale. Yesterday had been so busy, he hadn’t even had time to question it, and last night had been...Well, it’d been something. He still wasn’t sure what kind of fucking signals he thought he’d been picking up from Isaac last night, but neither one of them has mentioned it today.

He hopes Isaac doesn’t try to fuck him over with the pay thing. He knows he’s getting room and board, and that’ll probably be deducted from whatever he’s making, but he’s sure as hell not gonna work himself stupid if he’s not gonna end up with enough cash at the end of the week to at least get back home.

When he broaches the subject with Isaac as they’re getting ready to get back to work, Isaac asks him if he’s planning on using his money to get new boots that actually fit his feet. Before he realizes he’s doing it, he laughs right out loud. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna buy brand new boots to leave behind. Not fucking likely, dude. I just want to know if I’ll have enough cash to get my ass home.”

He’s so absorbed in getting himself ready to work again that he completely misses the look that passes over Isaac’s face. He does recognize the tone in his voice, though. There’s no way in hell he’s not familiar with hearing disappointment when people are talking to him. “Don’t worry, there’ll be enough for choices.”

They finish draining and flushing the tank and move on to checking the foundation. Isaac shows him how to check and repair the mortar between the heavy stones, and naturally, Tommy gets the honor of working on the inside. That means he gets a cramped, dark crawl space to work in, and between the dirt and the spider webs, he’s glad they took care of the water heater first. He’s gonna take the longest fucking shower he’s ever taken, and he’s gonna enjoy the hell out of every drop of heated water.

When he finishes his shower, he finds that the drawers in the dresser have been filled with clothes that are more or less his size. Even his own clothes are cleaned and folded and put away. He finds a thermal shirt, a flannel to go over it and a pair of jeans, and the look is rustic but doable. It’s enough to make him feel almost human again. 

He’s warm and relaxed and almost content when he goes out to find Isaac sitting at the table with a laptop open in front of him. “Just working out a schedule so we can get as much winterizing done as possible while you’re here,” Isaac says, and Tommy notices that the smile isn’t there, and it bothers him more than he thinks it should. Caring about how happy other people are is a sure way to get your heart ripped out and stomped on, or that’s the way it’s always been for him.

“We can get most of it done in three days, if we work our asses off. That’ll give us Saturday as a day off. I can show you around the place before you leave. I’ll take you back to the city Sunday morning, and you can catch the train then.” 

It all sounds so rigid and matter of fact to him, and there’s none of the usual Isaac spark in it, but he tells himself that it’s not really his worry. He’s used to offending people in ways he never understands. Seems to him that most people are just too fucking sensitive.

They have a little time before dinner, so Isaac shows him around the main house. He hasn’t really had time or energy for exploring much besides his own room and the kitchen. Hell, he hasn’t even watched TV since Friday. 

He finds out there’s a loft on both sides of the house, each with four bunks and a sitting area. Isaac tells him that it’s not unusual to have enough people working here in the busy season to keep them all filled. 

The living room is standard, and there’s a simple office that doesn’t look like it gets used too much. The utility room and side porch he’s already seen. The one room that draws him in is what Isaac calls the Jam Room. Tommy can hear the capitals in the letters when Isaac says it, too. There’s a piano and keys. There are at least two full drum sets, plus a few spare components. There are tambourines and maracas and castanets and every possible noise maker he can think of. But none of them are what he fixates on.

No, what holds his attention is a whole wall of guitars. There are old ones and new ones. There are electric and acoustic. There’s even a twelve string up there, and they all have their own unique bridges and pickups and controls. 

His hands are practically itching to try some of them out, but he knows how he feels about his own equipment. There’s a personal connection between a musician and their instrument, and he doesn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

As soon as Isaac tells him that it’s okay to try them out, he’s gone, though. It’s all the invitation he needs, and he pulls a pretty Fender off the wall and starts tuning it. When he’s ready, he notices Isaac’s taken up position behind one of the drum kits, and somewhere along the line, his shirt’s disappeared.

Tommy stares at him for a minute, or it could be more like ten, because he can’t seem to make himself look away. He vaguely wonders if the staring’s making him uncomfortable, but Isaac shrugs and says, “Sorry, beb. This is how I always play.”

Tommy doesn’t have a problem with it. Isaac’s smile is back, and it transcends the happy, slightly sexy smile it was before. Now it’s something powerful that tugs right at Tommy’s dick. He’s played hard before, and he’s played distracted, but never when the person who was making him feel that way was the only other person around. This feels way too exposed.

But when Isaac starts laying down a familiar beat, Tommy’s fingers take over and do the tricks he’s spent half his lifetime teaching them. They find the right positions, and they find the right notes. They take him to a place where he’s not just playing the music - he _is_ the music. It’s a place he usually only finds when he’s alone. It’s a place where there aren’t any secrets, where everything is open and bare. He locks eyes with Isaac and they play each other through enough songs to make his fingers start cramping. He’s not even sure they are songs, but it fucking well is music. 

When they end, he’s breathing hard, and he sees the sheen of sweat covering Isaac’s chest. He wants so much to go over and run his fingers over that heated skin and maybe even taste it. He wants to lick and bite and kiss and suck, and he thinks he sees an invitation in Isaac’s eyes. But he’s not positive he sees it because it’s really there or if it’s because he wants it to be there. 

So instead of doing what he wants, he hangs the guitar back on the wall and walks out. He goes back to his room, shuts the door and lies on the bed. He doesn’t answer the door when he hears Isaac knock. He doesn’t get up to eat dinner. He tries not to even think too much, but his brain isn’t exactly cooperating with that one. And he refuses to go to sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Isaac, shirtless and shimmering, and he feels like he’s a fucking lovesick teenager.

He knows that hiding in his room and avoiding the situation won’t help him solve anything, but he’s not really interested in solutions. He’s pretty much just doing his time so he can get home, because Isaac feels like big fucking emotions in his head, and he doesn’t need emotions screwing everything up. 

When he can’t fight sleep anymore, he dreams of Isaac again, except this time there are more than just touches. This time he dreams of kisses and work and long, lazy days. He dreams of fucking and fantasies and growing old together. He dreams of dreams, and in all of them, Isaac’s right there by his side.

When he wakes up, he tries to tell himself what an absolute dickhead he’s being. He _can’t_ feel the way he thinks he feels about Isaac. He just met him a few days ago. He’s not sure if he believes in that kind of love anyway, but he’s damn sure it doesn’t happen that fast, and it doesn’t fucking happen to him. Ever.

The next three days are lost in a haze of work and winterizing. They have to make sure that all the cabins are secure for the coming season. Caulking has to be checked and repaired, roofs have to be fixed and generators have to be started and degunked - Isaac assures him this is the absolute correct technical term for it - to make sure they’re in tip top shape when needed. Lines go down in mountain storms, and they’re not high on the priority list for getting fixed. Isaac tells him that it can be weeks, or even longer before they get outside power back.

Each cabin has it’s own propane tank, and they have to be topped off. Tommy’s not sure when he’ll ever need the new skills he’s learning, but he likes the feeling of accomplishment he gets from doing them. He likes the feeling that he’s making a self-sufficient shelter for anyone lost out in the forest. They even make sure the pantries are stocked with non-perishable foods.

And evenings are spent making and eating dinner in relative silence. They don’t go into the jam room together anymore. Isaac still practices in there by himself sometimes, but Tommy picks a guitar and takes it to his room to play. His fingers only seem to pick out sad, lonely melodies, though, and it makes him even madder at himself.

Friday night, he goes to bed exhausted. He’s never worked so hard in his life, and thinking about everything he’s done this week is enough to make his thoughts swim. He knows that when he gets home Monday night, no one’s gonna believe him.

He thinks he might even be too tired to dream, but there’s no way he can avoid that particular hell. This time his dreams take on a more metaphoric quality though. He sees himself and Isaac building a whole perfect world out of nothing - a world where they can live together and enjoy the knowledge that they’re capable of taking care of each other.

When he wakes, he feels an almost unrecognizable sense of loss. He’s not about to let Isaac know how abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous his dreams have become, and he’s glad to see that Isaac’s back to his teasing, smiling, zen master self. They even have an eating contest to see who has to clean up the breakfast mess before they go out exploring. He never would have guessed that Isaac could put away that much food.

It’s supposed to be a fun diversion. Isaac promises him that. Playing a grownup version of hide and seek on ATVs sounds like a good enough idea to pass some time and see more of the property. He isn’t used to riding in the woods, though. He isn’t used to doing anything in the woods, and when he wanders off the path, he finds out the hard way why he should never forget to bring his two way with him.

His first instinct is to take out his phone and call Isaac, but then he remembers that not only did Claire shut off his service, but there’s no signal up here. He really doesn’t think they can be far apart. It hasn’t been that long since he’d last seen Isaac. He can still hear the ATV’s engine, but he can't tell which direction the noise is coming from because of the way sound echoes up here. He decides just to keep going, even though the trail has long since petered out to nothing but a memory. 

So he decides to go slow, looking for tire marks or broken branches, but he’s not a fucking tracker, and he’s not some damn outdoorsy type. Shit, he hadn’t even been a boy scout, and he can’t remember if moss grows on the north side of a tree or the east side. It wouldn’t do him much good if he did know, because he has no fucking idea what direction the main house or any of the cabins are from here. 

Just when he thinks life can’t get any worse than it already is, his vehicle starts misfiring. He tries his best to keep it going just a little farther, positive that if he goes just a little more, he’ll break through the line of trees and see one of the cabins. But the damn thing stops with a jolt and a clang, and Tommy doesn’t think that’s a good sign. He doesn’t know much about engines, but he knows enough to know that he’s not gonna be the one to fix whatever it is that went wrong. Even if it just ran out of gas, which he really fucking doubts judging by the thin line of smoke coming from somewhere by the tire, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It’s not like there’s a gas station hiding behind one of the trees or anything.

And it might not be a good idea to take his frustration out on a tree, either. Punching a hundred year-old growth of solid wood isn’t the smartest thing to do, but it relieves a little bit of pressure, even if he does bust the skin over his knuckles open. 

He should have expected that Isaac would pick that exact second to come into view. Tommy had been so wrapped up in cussing at the tree, that he hadn’t even heard the changing sound of the other engine, but there’s Isaac, smiling at him and shaking his head in that way that makes Tommy feel like a complete idiot. 

He does feel a little better when Isaac comes over to him and holds his injured hand up to examine it. He’s always surprised at how gentle Isaac can be. He’s a little dude with a lot of energy, but he can pull it all back and be tender when he needs to be, and Tommy’s never been above using the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips to get a little sympathy.

He lets Isaac look closely and tsk over the scraped skin. He’s been through a lot, okay? He’s a city boy, and he thinks that being in the middle of all this nature is starting to give him hives. But when Isaac moves like he’s gonna kiss his boo-boo, Tommy thinks it’s going just a little too far, and he pulls his hand back. It’s a little too close to all those damn dreams he’s been having, and he doesn’t quite trust the way his body’s reacting. He can feel his heartbeat speeding up and his dick pushing against his zipper as it wakes up. Instead, he walks over and climbs on the back of Isaac’s ATV. He thinks he deserves to be chauffeured back to the house, damn it!

It doesn’t take long to break through the cover of trees, and he thinks he can finally breathe - until he sees the big, dark clouds overhead. Isaac’s told him enough about the weather up here to know that storms can come in fast when the clouds stack up against the mountains, and they can be vicious. They’re still about fifteen minutes away from any of the cabins when the first drops start falling, and now the close cover of the woods doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. The rain in the mountains is sure as hell colder than he’s used to, too. He’s positive there’s sleet mixed in with the drops.

Then the lightning starts. It’s not a gradual start, either. One second it’s not happening, and the next, it’s all around them. It’s wild and untamed and intense, and every time the accompanying thunder sounds, he swears he can feel it right down in his belly. It would be an almost sexual experience if he weren’t so fucking scared. But he’s positive he can feel the pull of the electricity trying to make his hair stand on end, and he’s sure each strike is getting closer to them. He can feel panic starting in the dark, fuzzy part of his brain, and it’s trying to break free.

While he’s being distracted by the cosmic light show, the singing drops turn into a solid wall of water coming down from the sky. Except the wind’s picked up enough to make it almost horizontal. He tries to bury himself right into Isaac’s back, but the rain and the wind find him anyway. He has no idea how in hell Isaac’s able to see where they’re going. It feels like the fucking apocalypse or something going on around them.

When Isaac stops in front of one of the cabins, he’s shivering so hard he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to walk inside or not. But inside means dry, and there’s no fucking way he’s staying out in this shit any longer than he has to. As it is, he thinks he might shake himself apart before Isaac finds the right key and gets the door open.

Isaac even helps him into the cabin, since the signal from his brain that’s trying to tell his feet to move isn’t working. He’s never felt this cold before. The freezing rain and wind did a number on him, but now that the adrenalin rush from the lightning strikes coming down all around them is wearing off, he feels the cold radiating in his bones. 

Once they’re inside and out of the direct fury of the elements, Isaac starts bustling about the cabin, flipping on lights, pulling towels out of the closet, and turning up the thermostat. Tommy still can’t make his feet move, though. He’s standing right where Isaac left him, feeling the cold drops of water running down his back. 

His fingers are numb, and his feet are soaked. The boots that gave him blisters were scorned after the first day, and the only other pair that’s close to his size has cracks and splits in the leather that let the rain right in. He can still hear the rush of the wind, and it sounds even louder than it did outside. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he’s hearing it inside his head, and it’s like the storm and the cold are both so deep inside, they’re part of him now. 

He tries to make himself move, to go further into the cabin and maybe even help Isaac get things sorted out, but after the first shaky step he stumbles. He’s sure he’s gonna do the most spectacular faceplant, but then Isaac’s right there to catch him before he falls. The noise in his head subsides as he sees the concern in Isaac’s eyes, but he still can’t get the tremors under control.

“Easy, man,” Isaac says, holding him steady. “You’re okay now. We’ll get you warmed up. Gotta get these wet things off you, ‘s all.”

He feels like a fool. He doesn’t want to be so damn weak, but the cold just keeps growing and growing in his bones, and the more it grows, the more he shakes. He can’t even manage to raise his fucking arms to help when he feels Isaac sliding his jacket off his shoulders. He stands still and limp as Isaac removes his shirt and lets it fall to the floor with a wet plop. 

With nothing between his wet, freezing skin and the open air, Tommy feels goosebumps rising immediately. The rainwater that drips from his hair and down his exposed chest and back leave icy flares behind, and he can’t quite grasp why he’s having trouble telling the difference between cold and hot.

Isaac picks up a couple of the towels he’d found and wraps one around Tommy’s shoulders while he uses the other to rub some of the drops from Tommy’s hair. Some part of his brain that’s not lost in frozen rain wonders why Isaac’s not taking care of himself first, but even if he could form words, he wouldn’t question it. It feels too damn good.

When he tries to unbutton his jeans and fails, Isaac takes that over, too. His fingers are still too numb to work things right, and he’s shaking too much to keep hold of anything. He thinks he should be a little concerned about how easy it is to let Isaac take over, but he’ll have to wait until he can think a little more clearly before he can figure that one out. He watches as Isaac slides his jeans down past his hips and ass, then does the same thing with his boxers. He lifts one foot at a time when Isaac asks him to, so he can take off his boots and socks before pulling his pants down and off. Isaac goes to work with another dry towel, drying and rubbing circulation back into each inch of skin. It doesn’t seem to bother him when Tommy’s dick stands up to say thank you either, and Tommy’s kind of amazed that it can even do that when it’s still frozen.

Then Isaac has a dry, soft blanket that he wraps all around Tommy, and he has no idea where it came from, but his mind’s still not focusing enough to question it. He lets Isaac wrap him up and help him sit on the big couch, and it all feels so natural. 

Once Tommy’s taken care of, Isaac goes about starting a fire in the big stone fireplace. The flames not only add warmth, but needed light too, because as soon as the fire’s going, the power goes out. Tommy knows the generator out back is in working order, but getting it started would mean someone would have to go out in the storm again, and he’s damn sure in no condition to go out right now, and he’s surprised to realize that the thought of Isaac going back out there bothers him even more.

There’s an awkward pause when the fire’s going, and Isaac’s standing there in his still dripping clothes. Tommy can see the almost sheepish look on Isaac’s face, and he would laugh if he weren’t still shivering so hard. 

Isaac’s fucking embarrassed to undress in front of him. 

The dude who just peeled off all his wet clothes and rubbed a towel over every inch of his skin to make sure he was dry is embarrassed to take off his own clothes.

He really doesn’t understand, but then it hits him. Isaac could do that for him because he’d needed it. Isaac doesn’t have a problem with doing whatever it takes to help someone else, but maybe he has trouble with asking for what he wants himself. 

Suddenly, he doesn’t care how wet Isaac is, or if it’s gonna make him start shivering even harder, but he feels like he’s gotta do something to help before Isaac gets chilled, because if he’s gonna be stuck out here all by himself after tomorrow, he can’t afford to be sick. Tommy unwraps one side of the blanket and holds it open in invitation. “I’ll just get it wet,” Isaac says, shaking his head.

“Don’t care,” he manages to get out between chattering teeth. “ ‘m still cold. Need you to help me warm up.” Isaac must see some truth in the words, because before Tommy can question whether or not this is what he really should be doing, Isaac’s there, pulling the blanket around them both. Somewhere on the way between where he was and where they are, Isaac even manages to lose his wet clothes. Tommy can see them on the floor; the trail goes from boots to shirt to pants to socks, and right up to where he’s sitting with a very naked Isaac. 

He’s not sure how Isaac managed the magic stripping act, because he can swear that he was looking at him the whole time, but he thinks he might have gotten lost in how warm those brown eyes are and how hard it is to look away from them.

But now that they’re wrapped up together, he can feel the warmth radiating from Isaac’s still wet skin, and he wants to touch it and surround himself with it and maybe even capture it. He wants to feel that warmth all the way inside, but he’s not really sure how to do that. He can feel the heat of Isaac’s breath against his cheek, though, and he turns his head trying to find more of it. 

It’s not exactly an accident when their mouths meet, but it’s not deliberate, either. If he wants to try and figure out what it really is, he thinks natural and necessary come closer than anything else because they just fit. He lets his tongue tease gently at Isaac’s lips until they part, and then he lets it explore the new territory that feels so strangely familiar.

It’s not just the kiss that feels that way, either. Having Isaac’s body pressing against his, feeling their arms around each other, holding on for all they’re worth, sharing space and breath and even heartbeats - it all feels so instinctive and needed. It feels like the one piece he’s been missing in his life so far. It feels like he’s finally where he belongs. It feels like home.

And suddenly the fear of opening up and letting someone else into his life and his heart - all the way in this time, no more fucking barriers - doesn’t seem like something he wants to avoid. He couldn’t avoid it any longer even if he wanted to, because this man - this man with his knowing smile and his sparkling eyes and his warm hands that are building a fire deep inside of Tommy - has already found a way past all the obstacles he’s put in place. 

Somewhere along the way, Isaac’s been able to work his way past all the bullshit and veneer, and he’d ended up right smack in the middle of Tommy’s heart. It’s a first for Tommy, a fucking big first, and just thinking about it makes his brain go a little fuzzy around the edges and his breath hitch just a little, because this feels so damn _important_.

But Isaac’s softly questioning, “Beb?” is all he needs to bring him back to the reality of what’s happening and the realization that he wants it to happen more than he’s ever wanted anything.

He doesn’t try to explain. He sure as hell doesn’t tell Isaac it’s nothing, because he doesn’t want to start this whatever-it-is on a lie. What he does, is answer Isaac with his kisses and his touches and his feelings. He knows he’s all right, or he will be as soon as he gets to know this feeling a little bit better, and that’s gonna take time. Right now, though, he wants to get to know Isaac’s body a little bit better.

He lets his fingers dance over Isaac’s skin, feeling the planes and ridges of muscle and committing them to memory. He loves the compact, coiled strength of Isaac’s body. He loves the uninhibited responses his touches bring. He loves feeling Isaac’s body arching into his own, looking for more, looking for him. But most of all, he loves feeling free - finally free of all fears and layers and excuses he’s used his whole life to insulate his heart.

He can finally give them all up, because he feels safe with Isaac. He knows that Isaac saw past them right from the start and was willing enough and patient enough for him to discover that he was good enough on his own. And that’s what this whole week has been about: finding his own self-worth.

The realization that he doesn’t need all the other shit he’d been carrying around hits him hard. The tremors that he was just starting to get under control come back, but this time they’re not caused by the cold. This time Isaac doesn’t need an invitation. He holds Tommy with care, turning the kisses into softer, more docile exchanges until Tommy’s ready for more. There’s no rush. There’s no pressure. He doesn’t feel like he has to manipulate anyone or anything to get what he wants and needs out of this. Isaac’s perfectly willing to give him everything.

They spend time trading kisses and touches while the storm continues to rage. He feels his desire building, and he presses closer to Isaac, trying to find the contact he needs. His hips thrust, looking for friction, and he recognizes that the cold has finally left his body, replaced by something new and warm. They bring each other to a fine edge, and when they feel the need for more, Isaac takes both their dicks in his hand and works them together.

He loses himself in Isaac’s syncopation, giving himself up completely for the first time in his adult life. He holds on to Isaac, finally giving in and tasting the sweat covered skin. He sucks random marks on Isaac, knowing they’ll disappear in minutes, but content in the knowledge that he’ll have time to do it again and again. At some point his hand joins Isaac’s - not to control, just to feel more closely. The precome slicking his palm is a mixture of his and Isaac’s and that thought is one of the sexiest things he’s ever thought. He rocks to the rhythm of their joined hands until he can’t hold back any longer.

When he comes, it’s another milestone in his life, another first. It’s the first time he’s just let it be what it is, and without having to try and prove himself by how long he can hold out or how hard he can come, it’s the most earth shattering experience he’s ever had.

He feels boneless and drained, but not empty. There’s so much new shit filling up his mind and body that empty isn’t even in his vocabulary right now. He needs time to get to know all the shiny, new parts of himself, and he needs time to come down from the clouds. He’s perfectly content with letting Isaac clean them off with a corner of the blanket while they cuddle together in front of the fire. The storm outside doesn’t seem to be letting up, and that’s just fine with him. The sound of the rain and wind and even the occasional crash of a tree going down just means that Mother Nature - and by extension, the mountain itself - are keeping them together, isolated from everyone and everything, and he could listen to it all night, curled up next to Isaac on the couch.

He feels Isaac shifting before the words come out, and they’re so completely opposite of what he was just thinking that it takes him a few seconds to sort them out. “Hope the storm lets up soon. Have to get you back to the main house so you can get your things and get to the station before the train leaves in the morning.”

At first Tommy thinks Isaac’s trying to tell him that he wants him to leave, but when he thinks about it, he realizes that he hasn’t actually let Isaac know about his change of heart. And that phrase has never had a truer ring, he thinks, because he could swear his whole fucking heart’s changed in less than a week.

“Yeah, about that...” he starts. “I’m not in a rush or anything. Trains run every day. Every week, even.” He lets his fingers play with the short hairs on the nape of Isaac’s neck. “I have to pay Lisa back. Then I kinda wanted to look for a pair of boots that fit and keep my feet dry. And warm. Snow could come anytime up here, right? I don’t wanna be caught out in the cold with bad boots. And maybe I’ll wait long enough to be able to afford to fly home instead of taking the train.”

Isaac’s smile is bigger than Tommy’s ever seen it when he asks, “Yeah? You sure?”

Tommy’s never been so fucking sure of anything before. And he can’t resist kissing that smile when he answers. He doesn’t know if this is his forever place, but it feels pretty fucking forever in his heart. Whatever, it’s where he belongs now, and that’s all that counts. “Yes, beb, I’m sure.”


End file.
